


The March of Time

by mawmawile



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Depression, Gen, NO DEATH, Negative Thoughts, References to Depression, References to Suicide, Self-Insert, Suicidal Thoughts, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mawmawile/pseuds/mawmawile
Summary: You haven't joined a club since you started high school. Yet, your childhood friend convinces you to join the literature club. Things aren't going too well for you though, as your anxiety builds and builds.
Kudos: 21





	The March of Time

**Author's Note:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

You were constantly oscillating back and forth. At one moment you were spiteful: _how dare they not notice my pain_? You wanted to scream at all your friends, curse them out—you wanted them to suffer as you had. And if your death would cause your suffering, then let it be done.

But that was a selfish thought, and you would reel back in your guilt. What kind of terrible person threatens to off themselves just because they’re too cowardly to ask for help? You, apparently… yet you would always come to the same conclusion. Everything would be better if you were dead.

These feelings of weakness and anger and guilt, they had been put on the back burner lately. Your depression would wax and wane and wane and wax in cycles you couldn’t quite predict. Only would it hit you in the middle of the week that you were at a low.

But as of late, you hadn’t been feeling so bad. Of course, your negative emotions still threatened to push through, but things had been relatively stable. You had gone to bed no later than midnight, you haven’t skipped any meals, you’ve been able to shower every morning, and you’ve only missed a few homework assignments.

You had wondered if celebrating your success would jinx your luck.

* * *

A couple of times you had dabbled in club activities. Once, when you were just starting high school, you had joined the art club. However, you always felt small and out of place there as everyone was working on their projects. You felt guilty for wasting paint drawing fanart of your favorite characters instead of doing something worthwhile, and eventually quit silently. You also tried to continue singing in the school choir as you did in middle school, but things were different in high school. People formed cliques, made friends, and you hadn’t wanted any part of it. You were surrounded in a sea of unfamiliar faces, and you anxiously stopped attending rehearsals.

So by your final year of high school you were determined to keep to yourself. You were smart enough to not have to study, so you would be fine if you didn’t get all depressed again.

You had been friends with a girl named Sayori for as long as you can remember. Actually, your mothers were best friends, so they naturally set us up on playdates as often as possible. You remembered playing horses with your bikes back when you and Sayori were kids. Even though you’d slightly drifted apart over the years, the memory still made you smile.

As you and Sayori grew up, the two of you got interested in different things, and made friends with different people. You still talked from time to time, but you weren’t as close as you used to be. But, as Sayori seemed to make real connections with her new friends, you seemed to lag behind, drifting in artificiality and aloofness. You liked your new friends, but you never dared be honest about yourself with them.

When Sayori ran up to you one morning to walk to school, you were surprised. You used to walk to and from school with her every day, but she would oversleep more and more when high school started, so you often walked without her.

“Hey! Were you thinking of leaving me behind?” She pouted cutely, not really offended.

You debated teasing her, but rejected the idea in fear of offending her and causing her to hate you. “We usually don’t walk together,” you pointed out instead.

“We used to,” she said quietly.

You didn’t say anything to that, and the two of you walked to school without much conversation. Sayori was humming a song under her breath, while you were lost in your thoughts.

“By the way,” she said when the school gates were in sight. “Have you thought about joining a club this year?”

You looked at her, not expecting that question. “Um… I haven’t. It’s not really my thing.”

“Even so, you should really join a club!” Sayori pumped her fist in the air, as if she were banging it on a table. “It’s important that you learn to socialize before starting college!”

Her saying that, you felt a pang of hurt. Did she really think you were so isolated?

Though, you supposed she was right. Even if your isolation wasn’t something you minded terribly

“It’s probably too late in the year to join any,” you said anyways.

“No way!” She shook her head in an exaggerated motion. “Any club would be happy to have a new member, even late in the year!”

You sighed. It would be too much of a fight to protest that, so you nodded and said, “I guess I can check out a few clubs.”

Sayori grinned and even jumped in place, before running off to her classes. 

Later in the day after class, you were putting your books away when you were interrupted.

“Hello!”

You turned to see Sayori. She was grinning, and rocking back and forth on her heels excitedly.

“Sayori?”

“Have you thought about any clubs yet?” she asked.

Truthfully, you were planning to scurry home without looking into extracurriculars. If Sayori texted you afterwards, you would just say you checked some out without seeing her.

“Eh… not yet. Class just ended,” you answered. You supposed she was about to hold an impromptu meet and greet with the school’s clubs, or something zany like that.

“Really?” She smiled as if she completely expected that. “I was thinking you might want some encouragement, so I wondered if you could join my club?”

Sayori was the president of the literature club. You never thought of her as someone who liked literature, but she ended up as vice president simply because she was the first person to show interest after the founder. Although you weren’t quite sure what she did there, you could imagine you wouldn’t enjoy it very much.

“I don’t know if that’s my cup of tea,” you said.

“C’mon, please?” She clasped her hands together and looked at you in exaggerated sadness. “I even got Natsuki to make cupcakes and everything!”

“Wait, you got someone to make cupcakes even though you didn’t know I would join?” You shook your head, _tsk_ ing. “I guess I can stop by for a cupcake.”

“Yay!”

Meeting of the rest of the club wasn’t bad, and you eventually ended up joining. Two of the girls, named Natsuki and Yuri, were total strangers to you, but you knew the president Monika from a previous year’s class.

Actually, you were poised to not join the club, but you have a hard time saying no, especially when there’s no excuse. Because of such, you caved in right away when the girls shot you dejected looks at your initial refusal.

Monika proposed that everyone write a poem for the next meeting, which sounded not only manageable but also fun. Still, exposing yourself in front of everybody was terrifying—and you couldn’t decide if sharing in front of strangers or your best friend was worse.

That was the mood going into the club, and it only plummeted as the days passed. Sayori was never in the art club or the choir, so it was easy to quit those things. But you worried about letting her down if you quit the literature club, so you always dragged yourself there after class.

You could tell no one else really liked you there. Monika seemed to tolerate your presence, but that was probably just her personality. None of your poems ever impressed Yuri or Natsuki, and it was like both of them took it personally. Even worse, Sayori began to grow more standoffish towards you. She even left the club early on Friday. You weren’t sure what you did to offend her, but you were too scared to ask.

* * *

Currently, it’s Sunday morning, and you have plans with Yuri today to make decorations for the club festival. Without considering what anyone else thought, Monika decided the club would perform poetry in front of your visitors. Thinking about performing like that fills you with anxiety. Your poems are… not very good, if everyone else is to go by. You had wanted to pour your heart and soul into your poems like someone had suggested, but the threat of being caught was too strong; so you mostly wrote about superficial things, nothing too memorable.

Still, if that’s the case, why is the whole thing so nerve wracking? You don’t know the answer, just that it would be solved if you hurt yourself.

Idiot.

Always so sensitive about stupid things. What are you going to do? Run out into traffic and put Yuri on clean-up crew? What a good person you are. No wonder Yuri detests you, no wonder Natsuki insults you, no wonder Monika regrets having you there, no wonder Sayori ignores you. You did this to yourself.

How can you possibly think about suicide? Yuri’s too dedicated to skimp out on such an important task, so she’ll be left knocking on your door over and over while you’re rotting on the kitchen floor.

You’re terrible.

You’d really make everyone’s life easier if you just died.

…No, that isn’t true. Sayori at least would remember you.

You let out a cry of frustration, a sound that’s filled with tears about to flow. Idiot, and you’re crying about it? You’re crying about it, even though you wouldn’t be the one who would be hurt? You really are a waste of space.

(For a moment, you appreciate the humor in your circular logic. If messing up made you want to off yourself, and wanting to off yourself made you want to off yourself, is there any room for an alternative? But this train of thought is soon washed over by the same rhythm you’ve been drowning in.)

Time is moving as it always has, and you are struggling to make a decision. Always so indecisive, no one can ever depend on you. Not like they would want to in the first place. Every moment you spend dithering, the closer you get to spending time with someone who hates you.

Yet…

You don’t really want to die. And it’s almost funny, amidst the thoughts of driving a knife through your chest or jumping off the roof, are thoughts like _gee_ , _I’d sure miss watching anime though_. Maybe it would be worth it.

Maybe it would be worth giving up release if you get to watch anime. Maybe it would be worth giving up anime if you get to die.

You don’t know.

Someone who deserved to live would be stuck with a much more important choice. But you’re worried about anime? If only you could—

Your ringtone is a sharp arpeggio of piano notes. You stumble to your phone unthinkingly, taking it out of its charging stand. It’s Sayori.

_Wanna meet me outside?_

You look at it, your mind numb for quite a while. Finally, hesitatingly, you type out:

_Yeah sure. I’m a mess though._

You wait for a response before you move, then take your time heading out the door.

Sayori is standing outside your house, looking past you. Is she here to tell you that she hates you? It would save everyone the trouble.

She smiles when you approach, though she seems calmer than she usually is. “I heard from Monika you’re working with Yuri today,” she says.

“Y-yeah, I am.” You’re still dreading it. “Ah, aren’t you supposed to meet up with Monika?”

Sayori looks away and speaks softly. “Well, we’re just collaborating online.”

“Oh.” You sound really stupid saying that.

“I was…” For a moment, Sayori tries to meet your gaze, but shakes her head. “I was wondering what you thought… about the literature club.”

“It’s fine,” you lie easily. But there’s something in her face that makes you falter. Sayori is, at least, your only friend. She doesn’t need to know the whole truth. Just… something, so that she can realize what your motive was later on. “I actually… I don’t like it.”

“That’s…” She’s all choked up, trying not to cry. You feel like an asshole. You feel like an idiot. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault!” You immediately move in to reassure her. “It’s mine! You were trying to share something you loved with me. I’m the one who was completely useless. No wonder.”

“No wonder _what_?” Sayori is fearful, and you feel even more guilty.

“No wonder they all hate me.” You say this with a low voice, but Sayori still catches it. She looks panicked.

Idiot. You’re an idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You can’t do anything right. Why did you have to open your big fat mouth in the first place? Why force her to play sympathy, when she should be happy about your death?

That’s not right. She wouldn’t be happy.

But why give her all this trouble? At least wait until you’re actually dead for her to find out; at least then you wouldn’t have to see how much of a failure you are.

You start sobbing. You desperately try to wipe your tears away, try to deflect Sayori’s worry, but you won’t stop fucking crying. You’re so weak. So useless.

“I’m—I’m so sorry—” Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Everything would—

She would—

You would—

Nothing would—

Sayori’s hugging you. It’s been a long time since you’ve hugged. “Please… tell me what’s wrong.”

It takes a while before you’re composed enough to speak without bursting into tears. Sayori doesn’t pull away until you do.

“I always mess things up, don’t I?” You rub your eyes. You sit on the curb, and Sayori joins you.

“That’s not true at all,” she says.

You shake your head, but don’t correct her—you’re afraid of being seen as contrarian and annoying. “I don’t really belong with the club.”

“Maybe that’s true, but…” Sayori looks up at you. “...I think everyone likes you anyways.”

“It doesn’t _feel_ like it.” You huff, but you’re just too tired to be angry. “I’m no good at poetry. I don’t know… it’s dumb. But I think the other girls really hate me for it. Since I can’t be as good as them, or something.” You sound incredibly stupid saying this aloud. All you’ve done is whine.

“I like your poetry,” Sayori says. “And so does everyone else, otherwise they wouldn’t continue sharing with you.”

“I guess.” You look away. “I’m just… getting stuck in my head, as always. I’m useless, aren’t I?”

“No!” She says this forcefully, in a way that surprises you. “You’re _not_ useless. Why is this getting to you?”

Looking at her is too difficult. “I suppose I’m just not good at… being happy.”

Sayori freezes in your peripheral vision, but waits for you to elaborate.

“For a very long time,” you start to say. She definitely hates you. She doesn’t. You’re being troublesome. You’re not. Fuck.

You start again. “For a very long time, I’ve had depression. I guess. I mean, not really. There’s people who have it worse than me, so…

“I don’t really know when I started feeling… _this way_ , but it just got worse and worse as time’s gone by. That’s why I never really did any clubs or whatever, they’re just too hard for me. I always feel like a deadweight, or useless, or whatever. But I really, _really_ didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Idly, you trace patterns in the asphalt. “I feel like a failure, but… I started thinking obsessively about hurt—about killing myself. I’m sorry. You must really hate me.”

It takes a while before Sayori speaks. The moments before are agonizing. “That’s terrible.”

You chuckle darkly. “I know, I’m awful.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she admonishes. “It’s terrible you have to go through that. I can… I can relate, somewhat.”

You look at her, surprised.

She continues. “I’ve been depressed for a very long time, too. In truth the literature club really hit me hard lately, because I was worried you would forget about me.”

“You always seemed so happy,” you say eventually. “I’m upset I didn’t figure it out.”

“I always thought you were just nonchalant,” Sayori says. “Guess both of us are good at pretending.”

It’s random, but you start laughing. All of this is so absurd! “God, and I thought you hated me! Turns out we’re both just depressed bastards!”

She laughs along with you, a bitter sound. You laugh and you laugh and you laugh, and you begin to cry.

“Monday,” she says, after you’ve long since quieted down.

You turn to her in confusion.

“Monday was the day I planned to commit suicide.” Her face is unemotive as she talked. “But, if I have to stay alive to protect you, then I won’t do it. I’ll live.”

“Then…”

It’s a beautiful morning. The sky is clear, and the weather is warm. Birds sing and chatter in the sky, and the trees stand tall and proud. Time continues to march onward, steady and rhythmic. It’s the same as it’s always been, and maybe that’s a good thing.

“Then… I’ll do the same for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based partly on my own experiences—I wish I had a Sayori though.
> 
> Um, just imagine right after this, the two of them walk to the conveniently placed mental health clinic and talk to a therapist and stuff. Like, don't just rely on your friends for mental health, see a professional!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought.


End file.
